Pluck A Rat
by magical marker
Summary: Plucking a rat is a foolish thing to do. And so is denying destined love. Post-Bloodhound Beka Rosto POV. T for just in case.
1. Chapter 1: Truest Affection?

Pluck-a-Rat

Plucking a rat is a foolish thing to do. And so is denying destined love. Post-Bloodhound Beka + Rosto POV.

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ROSTO

What a cheerful life she has given me. Each day I spend half my thoughts on that mot, and she shrugs me off as if I'm nothing but an ordinary rusher. I know that Aniki thinks I'm cracked in the nob – needn't even open her mouth, seeing as the look on her face is alight with pure joy. She loves seeing me having a difficult time. To her this is even better than our first few months in the lower city. And Beka…

She may think me a looby, and that may be true, but there's one thing that every member of the Rogue in Corus knows: I like a good challenge. That ice-eyed Dog won't be stolen while the King Rat is keeping an eye out.

With my good luck (and with Beka staying in Corus), she and I can pick up where we left off. I know that we can move beyond _Rowan_. And I realize my mistake now. But my goals are simple. Once Beka Cooper gets a taste of my truest affection, she won't be swayed by charming weasels like _Rowan._

BEKA

It was the one of the longest days I have ever experienced, despite the quick river journey in my lord's ship. Ersken met me afterwards. He said our group (and others) will be supping at the Dancing Dove tonight, courtesy of the Rogue himself. Mayhap Rosto will be sullen and pouty. I'd prefer that to one of his cheeky advancements or a stern reprimand. But I am not going to tears for any more coves. I'm not a silly little gixie looking for the next set of arms to tumble into, and if Rosto doesn't know that by now, he'd best pray to the Black God. I'll have nothing more to do with his games.

Pounce seems to be haughty right now. He's probably grinning over my obscure threat. Makes me wonder what he was doing on his long errand. I'd take him in any mood, though, my silly constellation cat. I'm still sore after the sewers, but I do look forward to seeing my new partner again. And I may just see Sabine there too. I must go prepare.

ROSTO

Everyone showed. The banquet was splendid. The conversation, engaging. Beka, beautiful. But broken, probably from that sarden, muck-hearted, 2-copper spintry. Rowan. This might be bold coming from a rogue like me, but I cannot possibly care less about his dignity.

I wonder what Beka thought of the scenery? Did she notice her favorite flowers in opal-studded vases as the centerpiece of her table? Or her very favorite selection of pastries arranged directly in front of her? Those things were trivial of course…She did seem glad to see her family and other Dogs – it warn't so easy to get to them. But it was worth so much more than anything to see one of Beka's rare smiles.

I could only sit and stare at her. She hardly glanced my direction. She seldom smiled. Her eyes, icy as ever, only glinted when her dear Tunstall spoke with her.

Well, Beka was never very lively. But I was expecting her to be loosened up a bit, considering her newest set of achievements. And then again, she's always been a modest one. I so wanted to hold her, to tell her my thoughts. Do I even have words for them? I would tell her with a kiss. It makes me ache in a most uncomfortable way, knowing she may not allow me any moment to approach her at all. But this is what she needs, even wants.

BEKA

Fit of idiocy. Perhaps Tunstall was right, in more ways than one. Now that I think on it, my course of action while tracking Pearl all seems right enough to me. He couldn't've heard about my…canoodling. It does seem like a mistake, but this is coming from my remorse after Rosto let me alone. Why did it seem to me that Mr. The Piper seemed so absent? Come to think of it, he was at the head of the main table when Achoo and I walked in. Did he disappear until he played his pipes? I reckon it's wishful thinking that he's finally decided to leave me be, at a point when I really need it, too.

I hope my Dog uniform won't be too snug. I ate much, and won't be in a mood for tomorrow because of these curst wounds. Kora, who knows my favorites, must have prepared the menu, and Ersken probably invited all my family and fellow Dogs. He was right when he said the company would do me some good.


	2. Chapter 2: Language of the Heart

This chapter is a bit rough. I'm in a rush to update, so…yeah. Enjoy. If you can.

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ROSTO

This morning Beka's face was thoughtful. She was buried in thought. I studied her enough to know that. She's normally guarded in her own head, but today more than usual. Me, I like a mot who thinks on her feet (like Beka), but I get a bad feeling I don't want to know what she's thinking about.

I'm sure she noticed my tokens of affection this morning. Mage-grown tiger lilies, fresh as if shipped from the banks of the Zekoi River in Carthak. The three lilies were strewn across her windowsill, right next to my own offering of birdseed for the late Slapper.

Why should I want Beka so? Last night one of my guards after a few pints too many muttered about me picking up any mot in the rogue. Well, at least one person took note of my efforts to please Beka.

Truth be told, I can get any mot to canoodle with. I _am_ the Rogue of Corus. But where's the challenge, the mystery, the intrigue, the romance in that?

...And yet, even I doubt myself. I see the pain in Beka's face. And it burns me. Unseen fire inside me has its own will: to scorch that sarden gambler who lifted Beka's heart, as if he were a foist, stealing my only gold noble. I must think of a plan, but I'm much too busy. I still need to take a look at those reports on funds afore some young scut tries to lift something else of mine, such as my throne. Why must Beka Cooper dominate my thoughts at times like this?

BEKA

I suppose Rosto is yet again playing the role of the charming rusher. I know the manner well from my own mother's mistakes. A tiny voice echoes in my nob, and I nearly brain myself when it grows louder. I almost scream back at it. How could I have missed Rosto the Piper? I certainly wasn't thinking of him when I held Dale in my arms.

And there's the problem.

I thought I loved him. Now I just feel sucked dry. I do feel plenty bad for the King of the Rogue. Why doesn't he pick any other mot? It hurts enough, knowing he's playing games with me simply because of jealousy. It's enough to know that no matter how much I want to press my mouth against his rose petal lips, I'll still feel dirty. It would be so much easier for him to lose interest quicker, as I know he eventually will. I'll need to be careful to guard my gob whenever he's around. I nearly gave him a lashing from the mouth when I saw his present on my windowsill. Though the birdseed was nice enough. Didn't expect that, seeing as Slapper used his famous technique on Rosto's very face on more than one occasion.

After today I'm sure it will be a lot more interesting on the job. Tunstall adores Achoo, but she does manage to charm most anyone that sees her. Pearl Skinner was proof of that. The three of us (plus Pounce from time to time) make as good a team as our old trio. We bagged two foists and a swilled knifeman today. Not that Achoo can ever replace Goodwin, though. Goodwin is enjoying her new desk job. She says now she's the one who comes home ready for loving. Apparently Master Tomlan approves of the new job, too.

ROSTO

Breakfast today was boring. Beka met us at the door and handed me my breeches. She does an excellent job of sewing, but it also looked as if she'd sewn her gob shut. She didn't seem to want to talk to me. I'm reminded of our last kiss. It seems a long time since. She had foolishly walked out her door and was overtaken by two bigger cracknobs. They thought they'd intrude on my dominion. They thought they'd attack one of my own legion.

And when Beka heard they'd been served what they'd asked for, she was unhappy. How could I have made her understand? I used my best way to show. I told her my points, and I remember so clearly leaning into her brow, brushing my lips over her forehead and breathing in the scent of her honey hair. And she shot me one of my most favorite looks – why else would I be so brash all the time, if I did not love that look? – and she didn't even say a word. Just the simple and wonderful language of her ghostly eyes.

Time saps away along with my chances of seeing that expression once more. I need to focus if I want to use that language again.

BEKA

Hasfush was glad for my gift of Port Caynn dust. The pigeons are carrying souls that hardly seem troubled at all. And the Lower City feels as if it will burst for no reason at all. Sure, we've had a few kidnappings (all of them the work of amateurs) and some loobies who think they are a match for our batons. But everything feels off. I ought to put a finger on it but can't. The Bread Riot seems so far away. The last traces of it are in Tunstall's slight limp.

And the Court of the Rogue is going along just fine. We've hardly had any run-ins with rushers.

It seems as if the gods are playing a joke on me, and Ersken seems to be the only one laughing. He's noticed the flowers Rosto somehow sneaks into my room.

I'd like a reason why the most interesting thing in my life as a Dog is my love life. I think on how my white-haired neighbor could have gotten a rip in his breeches so quickly. I recognized the distinct edge of his silver buckle knife on the hem of his pants. I know enough about him that he'd not get careless with his blades, nor allow anyone else for that matter.

Gainel also seems to be having a laugh, for my dream was a curious one. Rosto and Pounce were both at the door. Their eyes were the jewels from the necklace that Dale gave me, and I shrieked at them. Then Rosto handed me a mountain of gillyflowers that shattered into birdseed. He looked at me with his normal black eyes and told me to let go. Of what?

Pox. I'm already late for meeting Tunstall for a bit of peck and cass at the Mantel and Pullet.


	3. Chapter 3: Thoughtless

I'm trying to actually update this one on time!

Thank you, all of you, for the reviews. I'm trying to fit some nice fluff, but I don't want the story to move too quickly. The format of this chapter is a bit…different.

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ROSTO

I'm no cove to swoon over a lady's looks. If you've a decent enough soul, a sound mind, and exceptional strength, you are a fine candidate for my inner circle. My standards for the doxies were much lower than that, oddly enough. They've changed, and now (only my mage and swordsman truly take note) are nonexistent, for I will no longer pick up any willing mot in Cesspool. One silver noble to anyone who can guess why.

Beka, who was the answer to my last sentence and remains the answer to my heart, is tricky as ever. I'm not sure how she really feels yet – that Dog can hide her thoughts from any rat. For all I know she could be plotting my capture right now. Now that I think twice, I wouldn't be surprised if she were, considering what I did.

BEKA

I can hardly stop myself from tearing this parchment to shreds and tossing it out the window. The pieces would join the remains of his gifts. All but one of them, that is. It's impossible to wipe off the Kiss from my face. It cannot join the gillyflowers that now lie outside my window amidst pools of pigeon scummer.

What must I do to end it? My soreness after demonstrating baton drills to the Puppies this morning is a copper in the Happy Bag compared to the soreness in my chest. How can I get it through to that impossibly handsome yet incredibly dim-witted Scanran's nob that I won't be his? How can a mot rid herself of a heartbroken Rogue who stubbornly continues courting her?

How can I deny him my love?

Oh yes, it exists. Much as I hate to admit, it is there living within my heart.

After I returned from the drills and from meeting with the dust spinners, I entered my door and found yet another pair of **his** breeches amidst a laundry pile in need of mending. I picked them up and noticed the present poking out of the rear pocket, a golden-gilded gillyflower. There were two more, each found in the legs of the breeches. I was mad. Why waste a single noble on a mot like me? Golden flowers (my _favorite _breed of flowers) do not pop from the earth. They're tampered with by mages and then sold by venders in the Prettybone or Unicorn District. Not in the Lower City. Not meant for a Dog from Mutt Piddle Lane.

I was not thinking, I was so mad. The flowers flew out the window, and I was through the door before they floated to the dirt. I didn't even pause to think that Rosto probably wouldn't be home. Yet, for reasons not known to me, he was there.

I don't know what in the Goddess's name possessed me. I couldn't say a word. Once again I could only curse him for answering while shirtless. I could already feel my cheeks turning an irrational shade of rose. I looked up past his lean chest and noticed the flicker of a grin before he folded his arms in front of him and said, "Well, well, Terrier." I said nothing, but I fought in my head for the right words.

"Ah. Do you prefer your new name? Bloodhound?"

I snapped. I cannot recall my words exactly.

I moved toward him, not caring for our delicate Dog-Rogue relationship. I rose a fist, but it fell limply before I could bruise him. The tears rolling down my red face were distracting.

Then I saw him, and his face was frozen. Shocked, I'm betting, to see the infamous Terrier and supposedly sly Bloodhound blubbering on his doorstep. He was not by any means as shocked as I.

How can I explain it? He tried to understand, using those strong and scarred hands. He felt my face, fighting my drooping head so he could see me. Just as he won the fight, I felt a fresh tear form at the corner of my right eye. I studied his dark-as-midnight eyes as the drop began to build up and push its way free.

Before I rose my hand to wipe it, before I turned about and hid myself from him, he turned his head. It tilted while at the same time it drew near. His breath was warm, indescribably sweet and comforting. His lips were almost like I remembered, but more satisfying and firm. He was sure of himself.

He kissed my brow, kissed away the tear he had caused. I only felt the side of his face with the hand that had recently tried to pummel his gut. My other hand betrayed my past anger and reached for his smooth, warm back. He only grew more passionate in response to my unthinking reaction. His mouth lingered at my eyelid, then traveled down the right side of my face, faintly touching my lips.

I noticed one of his arms snaking its way under mine and around the small of my back. His other hand traveled upwards, slender fingers pressing against my head ever-so-softly like gentle flames. Rosto seemed to have struggled in his head and decided to finally kiss me. His mouth was breathing into me, caressing my lips. It felt so overwhelmingly right. He had almost gotten his tongue inside of my mouth when we both froze.

A breeze of wind swept by, and we both realized our foolishness. His door was opened wide, facing the roads and alleys of the most dangerous part of Corus. If someone had seen us…

I clenched my fist and, quick as Ahuda had shown us, drove it straight up. My knuckles hit his jaw, jerking his entire head up. I reckon he was staring up at the wooden ceiling by the time I had dashed out the door and to my apartment.


	4. Chapter 4: I Do Wonder

Sorry for lagging behind. I've taken to writing at school computers these days. I am swamped with schoolwork, so I'll try to squeeze in writing sessions. Hopefully my "romance" scenes won't leave any of you empty, or weirded out. Sorry. I'm glad I have your reviews to help guide me, seeing as I'm new to writing this stuff.

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ROSTO

Whatever that stumpy Kebibi Ahuda taught those little Puppies, she did a damn good job of it.

Luckily we won't be hearing much from her since she's in the Flash District now. I'd pity even the lowliest rat who had to suffer the merciless fist of Rebakah Cooper. I also thank the gods that Beka and I are on good, normally non-violent terms. Even with her being a Dog and all.

After Beka left, I was staring at the finer details of the wood ceiling for a few seconds. It's times such as these that I wish Kora were good at healing.

I can't understand what went wrong. Beka came to me, crying of all things. It just makes me wonder. Does she not want me? Enough to be moved to tears of frustration at the sight of my presents? I'll leave no more gifts.

When I saw her crying, I lost all my words. I'd thought she'd be maybe a bit bitter (she is a proud mot), but I didn't expect her to break down. And then I kissed her, and it was far better than all the flirting and pecks from before. I felt her heart beating on my chest as her tears ran down, her soft hair in my fingers. Her mouth was so warm. We were there for what seemed forever.

And afore I knew it, she stopped and broke my jaw. I thought all mots could be charmed a certain way. Before I met Beka, I thought all women were prey to the same tactics, whether they be hedgecreepers or noblewomen. And just when I thought I was beginning to see all these differences and their worth, Beka goes and trips me up again. I wonder if it was my tongue that made her feel skittish.

BEKA

The Watch last night was unbearable. I had to deal with that gods-curst kiss, and there were no rats to hobble. Not a single one. All we got were a good few skirmishes in a bar. Tunstall says (with doubt) that it may have to do with recovering from the cole incident, but I get a bad feeling. It just doesn't feel like the Lower City without a chase or a fight to the death each night. Pounce scolds me and says I should thank the Goddess for my luck. The silly cat. I do know I am lucky, though, now that he's finally back again. But he could tighten that muzzle of his every once in a while. His comments on my job are almost as bothersome as his commentary on Rosto's latest move.

I'm still in shock over that. Even more surprising still, I want to taste that again. No, that must be the sleep speaking. And I'll pretend I didn't hear Pounce's sarcastic input on that last one. Can my constellation cat read? I never thought of that.

ROSTO

Kora's face when I asked her for some minor healing on my face was one to remember. She rolled her eyes and got all saucy, reminding me that she's no healer. As though I needed reminding. I just can't take the soreness – but not because of the pain. I've had far worse. It is the constant reminder of who threw the punch that irks me. My pride must be put to the side in this case.

As if Kora's first response weren't enough, she started to understand why I had hidden in my hood during the rest of the day. And then she had to tell her bedmate, Westover. Those two are a headache when they get together. The lad and I have come to an agreement that he can stay, so long as he treats my Kora well. He almost treats her too well, though.

I do admit it is sickening to see them giggle at my quest for the Dog who hobbled my heart (I just know Aniki would not let me forget the use of such a phrase). Pox and murrain on whoever invented the see-through spell that Kora is so good at casting. She saw scummer-covered gilded gillyflowers in the gutter last night. By mere coincidence, she says. Half of the court may know of my rejection if Kora doesn't keep her gob shut.

Tomorrow I shall confront Beka. She's not got any practice drills today, so I'll get to her before Evening Watch. With my luck, I'll only have five or six bruises by the time Beka allows me to return home.

BEKA

I'm screaming inside my head right now. The day before yesterday I had guessed that Rosto was carried away by his "passions." And tonight he apologizes for kissing me!

Well, thank the Goddess I didn't tell him that his kissing was NOT the problem. I did tell him not to do it again, leaving out the part about how much I enjoyed it…I only cracked him on the nob once, when he proved that he had no hint as to what I meant when I mentioned the alley. Someone could have seen us!

It's different with sweethearts like Ersken and Kora. Kora may be one of the high-ranking court members, but Rosto is the King of the Rogue. And, so Goodwin told me this morning at the kennel, I am (supposedly) one of the more famous green Dogs. I say that's looby-talk, but it would explain how people seem to recognize me out in the streets.

ROSTO

If I'm not careful, Beka will end up killing me some day. And no one would blame her if she did. She thinks me a fool, and I have to agree with her. Some ambitious rusher could have spotted my weakness. I was reckless with her that day when I, filled to the brim with affection, swept her into my arms and gave her a piece of my mind. Or heart. And she punched me.

So it was not the tongue. Maybe…maybe she liked that. A cove can dream, can't he? Ah, Beka. Now I _do_ wonder _exactly_ what you thought.


	5. Chapter 5: Games

Thank you all. Maybe I should claim that reviews are my source of food. You won't let me starve, will you? Just kidding. Really, you all are wonderful. Please continue to give me your thoughts.

Some people *cough cough Polaris cough* have some interesting ideas, which I love. Seriously, I never really know where any of my stories go. I just have misty visions of the end. Impressive and orderly, huh?

I'm in a rush to update. Must stay on a roll!

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BEKA

I thought my days would return to being normal, and now I know that I was very wrong. I've never been so mortified as I was this afternoon. Never have I so wanted to bash someone's face in, either. This is what happened as I was running late:

Achoo was lazing about in the yard, playing with my white-haired neighbor. I was running late (this was Rosto's fault in the first place, since he's been popping into my thoughts and depriving me of sleep!) and I was in a bit of a hurry. When I got down the stairs, Rosto and Achoo both looked up and seemed to be grinning.

I was not smiling. "_Kemari_, Achoo. We're running late."

"Just a moment, Guardswoman," Rosto said. I had a way of responding to that. I propped my right fist on my hip and glared so hard that the big smirk on his face faltered for a second. I wasn't about to tell him he was the reason I was late waking up this morning, so my frosty glare would have to do.

Rosto recovers fast, though. "Have you aught to say for yourself?" he asked.

I only raised an eyebrow.

"Beka…would you mind telling me how you felt about the other day?"

My face turned hard. "I've already told you."

"Yes, your fists are very eloquent," he agreed. "But I don't mean that. You never complained about our kiss."

Pox. He really isn't as fribbety as some like to think.

It hit me then. He wouldn't give up.

"…I am going to be late because of you."

Of course my last words only encouraged him.

He gave a huge smile, much to my annoyance. "We can't have the best Dog on the Evening Watch missing her usual catch of filchers, can we?" His eyes glinted, and he moved towards me. His scarred hands finally rested on my shoulder and his lips parted so he could speak.

"I'm not giving up, love." And he turned down the nearest alley, quicker than I thought possible. The jingling of his knives and chains faded, but only because I began running. I was blinded by anger, and Achoo knew it. She gave a small whine as she kept my pace.

That Rosto is always doing this! Curse him for making me blush like a silly gixie. Then I cursed him a thousand times more for always pulling these things right before I work.

ROSTO

The reports. More and more and more of them keep coming. This one's talking about coles, how the last few are dying off. Another one is on the harvest. I really might as well be King of Corus. I doubt King Roger receives so much paperwork. My week consists of naught but papers. I druther be dueling some vain swordsman or sparring with Aniki (actually, those two are the same thing – Aniki has been getting very smug around me, further proof that Kora is a jabberknob).

My birdies do have interesting findings, though. Supposedly, a gang of fresh scuts has been causing trouble in Upmarket District (of all places). Robberies with tell-tale details showing a cetain style and whatnot. A few kidnappings and ransom notes, too. None of my inner circle can tell whether they be the usual rascals. To our knowledge, they are a large group of lads.

Some in the Court say we should at least look into their motives.

We ought to teach them the rules, if they do not know them. Typical middle class, in my opinion. They hardly ever get much action with the Court.

I need to stay focused. This is my city at stake. Perhaps I really should prepare for an actual duel.

There is a bit of news on the Beka affair, too. Ah, she certainly wasn't expecting that I'd catch on to her...but I knew she'd said nothing about our kiss. Even better, I know that she responded to my mouth.

But I mustn't get too tangled up in that, or I shan't get any more of this reading done.

BEKA

I'm avoiding and ignoring Rosto as much as I am able. Even if it drives me mad. I can be just as stubborn as him.

I feel like a coney. The only part of Corus getting any action is Upmarket district, one of the cleaner areas. Tunstall finds this peculiar, and I find it unsettling and unfair. Pounce says I'll get some new case in time, but I get more and more restless by the hour. The balance of the entire city is all wrong, it seems. Why are all the thugs rushing to another district? All I can do is hope that a pigeon will turn up with some news from some souls. I would be just fine with only that, so long as I can pass the news down to the Watch commander in Upmarket. Those sarden rushers cannot be allowed to continue their game. They deal in the worst sort of crime.

Kidnappings. Most victims are gixies, or young babes. The lot that go roaming up there in well-to-do neighborhoods, stealing away children to get their fambles on a few nobles…it's them that I have no mercy for.

ROSTO

I am pretty sure Beka knows she can't continue playing this game anymore. I catch it in her eyes as we both sit at breakfast on opposite ends of the table. It has been going on for a few days now.

Of course, she seems to be chatting with Phelan about Achoo's coat and other Dog/dog stuff. But I know that she can't completely avoid me. She's made it too easy for me to see, and I'd bet my right hand that she's cursing herself for it.

But she's not cursing herself for her undeniable attraction to me, I'm sure.

If I did have some sort of close friend, any sort of cove to talk with like a friend, how would he respond to my troubles?

Mayhap he'd tell me to find some other mot to swive with. Most rushers I know wouldn't see anything wrong with that.

No one here in Corus knows much about it, but I have always been a cove who likes being with women. So no one here would really be able to notice the way I've changed. But canoodling with any mot I've known for a day or two is nothing compared with just touching Beka's soft hair, or making her blush. It's so damn adorable, it makes me feel fresh and new again. I've never really had a relationship like this. Makes me feel sorry for the old 'me'.


	6. Chapter 6: On the Move

Long time no update. I decided to plunge in and forget my earlier version of this chapter. My thumb drive is long gone. I hope some of you are still interested.

I won't keep you waiting, then!

BEKA

Pounce was right. That furry little know-it-all. I had to be patient all along. But now I've finally got news of the kidnappings and robberies.

It happened on my early morning rounds, when I was visiting the dust spinners. It warn't too far, just on Holderman Street. A small dustling, a newborn spinner it was. But its information was no doubt handy.

After feeding it my Port Caynn leftovers, I heard the voices of two young men. One sounded meek and nervous, and the other gruff and nonchalant.

"…haven't been able to find her. This makes no sense at all, Mareth." The nervous one broke off with a sob. "I don't know what to do."

"Nonsense, boy. Why does she matter?"

"I love her." The younger one's voice was more firm, but the one named Mareth only laughed.

"Lad, get it out of your nob. She's not sweetheart material. She's a common doxie."

"You know naught of our love. Eloanne does what she does to support her child and you know that! If you won't help me, I'll do this in my own way." The gruff Mareth sounded amused. "Love? What a way to show it, entering the bed of another man each night…You are a fool."

There was silence, but Mareth continued. "Did they not leave you a ransom note?"

"There's no way I can pay such a steep price! You know that…even the money you owe me will do nothing."

"Well, I think we both know where you can get some of this payment. After all, it's right at your fingertips for most of the day."

"I will not betray Master Athair. I am his trusted servant."

"Then you're a fool _and_ a craven."

It ended there. I cannot be sure if this case of a doxie kidnapping can have aught to do with the Upmarket gang. Nonetheless, I will definitely poking my nose into the case of this unnamed lad.

ROSTO

"Rebakah Cooper," I said. "My birdies tell me you've gone and sought out your own action. Is the Lower City too drab for you these days?" When she looked at me there was no amusement, no curiosity, no interest. There was intensity, but it was not directed at me. No, Beka was once more in her realm. Being a Dog…is really what she is meant to do. It's her calling.

But I will not allow for any more of her typical moonsong. None of that recklessness I heard she pulled in Caynn. I know Beka can handle herself, and I'd be a fool to say anything to the contrary.

But if I may not court her, I will be her eyes underground. It's the smallest service I can perform, and she may be happier with that.

Anyhow, this news of the kidnapped doxie is not only a lead for the Dogs of Corus. In reality, the Court faces a much more sinister threat from these Upmarket louts who don't know their place. They will soon find out they are no match for the age-old Court of the Rogue. And if they harm Cooper in the process, I won't deal them painless deaths. The Black God's embrace will be their most welcoming greeting, that I can assure.

When Beka came to warn us at the Dancing Dove, she wasn't surprised we dispatched a set of eyes and ears to sing on the happenings in Upmarket. She's done much Dog work, so that can be expected. Though it can be surprising how little some of the more seasoned Dogs can know. Then again, the ones that come to mind are all Daywatch. That explains it.

BEKA

I set out for Tansy's after speaking with Rosto's gang at the Dove. Tansy would know of this Master Athair.

From what I could gather, this Athair cove would be wealthy. And I guessed that the younger cove (the nervous one) was a high-ranking household servant. The rest of my assumptions were far more shaky. Somehow that servant ended up in love with a plain doxie. They must have been close, since the kidnapper went to the trouble of stealing away the doxie to reach the servant. And this servant had access to what the rusher wanted: money, and/or possible vengeance on Master Athair. The rusher would also have to know the details of the lad's servitude.

But before making a move, I'd have to meet the victim.

Tansy was pleased to see me. The last time we'd seen each other was at my homecoming. "I'm glad to see you're all fixed up, then," she said. "What do you need?"

"You assume I came here to collect?" She cocked her head, stuck out a hip, and propped her hand on it. Though it was morning, her lips were rose-red with lip paint and the smell of perfume wafted from her loose tresses.

"Why are you fancied up? Big occasion?"

"Never you mind. I'm just expecting company. Important coves and their mots. It'll be a tough feast, with all these jabbernob women flooding my house."

"Poor you, stuck in a life of dinner parties and petty mots and the like. Anyway, I am here for some help. Do you know a Master Athair?"

"Know him? I know of him, and his wife. Oh, they're really fine people from what I hear. Quite charitable, you see. Coming to the party tonight, in fact."

"Really? Well. You don't know where he lives, do you Tansy?" I was hoping she would miss the coincidence.

"No, but…why don't you stay for the feast Beka? We really haven't been able to catch up in quite some time, with you being in Port Caynn to nab the colemongers! It'll work out so well."

For you, I thought. Picture me fumbling about at a fancy celebration with Corus's wealthiest. It is a fearful thought. But Tansy herself was afraid. Uppity women would always have a rotten word or two about her past in the Cesspool. A look at Tansy's face, and I knew it was settled.

I guess I'd better talk to Tunstall about leaving tonight's watch early now.


End file.
